


Chocolate Frosting

by starrybutterfly



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cake, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7086724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrybutterfly/pseuds/starrybutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anyone wanna be fake engaged with me for like 2 hours to try wedding cake samples?"<br/>You can guess what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Frosting

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so the quote in the summary doesn't feature in the fic, but I saw it on a meme on twitter and it screamed Bellarke AU at me, so - here :)

Bellamy was in the middle of proofreading his essay for what he felt was approximately the seven hundredth time, when a pink flyer was thrust in front of his field of vision.

“What are you doing Saturday?” The flyer was obscuring his view of anything else in the café, but he’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Dragging the leaflet away from his face, he began to analyse its contents. And then he read it again. Bemused, he raised an eyebrow before turning to stare at the girl standing next to him and saying, “What the fuck is this?”

Clarke beamed at him. “Read it.”

“I did.”

A small crease began to form in between her eyebrows, but it did nothing to deter the smile on her face. Clarke slid into the seat next to him.

“Delilah’s bakery are doing free wedding cake samples on the weekend. _Free_ , Bellamy. _Free_.” Clarke summarised the flyer for him, apparently deciding that he hadn’t gotten the hint yet. Bellamy had a feeling he was missing something.

“Yeah, free. I can see that.” Bellamy said, turning the flyer over in his hands. “It’s also for people who are planning a wedding – which you’re not, unless there’s something you’re not telling me – so what are you so excited about?”

Honestly, he hadn’t seen her this worked up over something since that artist she’d been obsessed with last year had come to town to do a show. Clarke had hammered down the door to his apartment at about six o clock in the morning to announce that she’d got them two tickets, and if she hadn’t looked so goddamn happy he’d have probably gotten in some sort of strop about being woken up so early, but the smile in her eyes had been infectious and he’d somehow never stopped to complain that she’d just assumed he’d want to go with her.

But then, that had always been their way, ever since they became friends in freshman year. Clarke was a whirlwind of activity that Bellamy somehow always seemed to get caught up in; even though they had a wide circle of friends, Bellamy was always the one that Clarke seemed to choose to spend the most time with, and Bellamy never found a reason to argue with her because he always seemed to have the best time when she was around, even when it was something he would never normally-

Oh.

_Oh._

The realisation must have shown on his face, because Clarke’s smile somehow grew even wider.

“No.” Bellamy said.

“Oh, come on, Bellamy, it’s just one afternoon.” Clarke said, pouting a little. “It’s my favourite bakery. Do you know how much one of their cakes normally costs?”

“Yes.” Bellamy replied. “I somehow end up buying you one every week.”

“And now it’s my turn to repay the favour.” Clarke said. “Except…it’s _free_.”

“Clarke, stop saying free.”

“But-”

“No.” Bellamy said, scratching the back of his neck. “No one would buy it, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because…” Bellamy floundered for an excuse. The truth was, he was pretty sure that he and Clarke could quite easily pass off being engaged for an afternoon. They knew each other like the back of their hand.

Clarke beamed in triumph. “Pick me up at 11.”

* * *

She’d dressed up. Not massively, nothing over the top, nothing like what she wore went they went out with the rest of their friends to _Arkadia_ , the local bar where Raven worked weekends and gave them free shots. But still, it was more than her usual jeans and tee ensemble; a cute little tea-dress that was the same colour as her eyes, and a pair of a strappy heels that made her trot beside him rather than walk normally.

Bellamy shortened his strides to try and stay beside her. “So, do we need a backstory for this?”

“Mm. I was thinking about this,” Clarke replied, adjusting the strap on her shoulder bag. “We’ve been dating for two years, engaged for six months. You proposed on a beach in Bali. We’ve booked a cute little hotel in the country for the reception, and my dress – fyi - makes me looks _banging_.”

Bellamy quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re going with? _Banging_?”

“Okay. Beautiful, stunning, _radiant_ even…” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll just say whatever the other brides are saying, if that makes me less conspicuous.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Bellamy muttered under his breath. They’d reached the bakery, and Bellamy held the door open for her, wincing as a bell chimed to announce their arrival.

A host of other couples were already inside. A woman stood behind the counter, wearing an apron that was covered in flour. She smiled warmly as they approached. Bellamy cleared his throat and placed a hand at the base of Clarke’s back, pushing her forward so that she could do all the talking. Turns out, he didn’t need to.

“You must be Bellamy and Clarke, my last arrivals.” The woman said before Clarke could speak. “I’m Delilah. Find a seat and I’ll start bringing over your samples.”

Thankfully, the couples were sat on separate tables, which Bellamy hoped meant they wouldn’t have to engage in any dreaded small talk. Not that there was much time for talking, because as soon as the cake samples were presented in front of them, Clarke immediately began to stuff her face with a contented little smile.

Bellamy didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so he nibbled politely on a couple of chocolate cakes, allowing Clarke to have more than her share.

She emitted a small moan at a red velvet with strawberry frosting, turning to him with her mouth full to say, “God, Bell, you have _got_ to try this one.”

She waved her fork in his face, and after a moment’s hesitation Bellamy leant forward to take the cake into his mouth. Clarke was looking at him expectantly so he made appropriately pleased noises whilst trying to swallow what he could only describe as a mouthful of sugar. It was _awful_. Clarke had a lot of things going for her, but her taste in food was not one of them.

Clarke was still staring at him with a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

“What? What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” She said. “Just – you’ve got a little something…”

She leant over to brush a crumb away from his mouth, her thumb lingering on his bottom lip a little longer than could be deemed _platonic_ , and Bellamy’s stomach did a little weird flip that happened all too often when he was around Clarke, so often in fact that it was starting to become hard to ignore, and he was desperately trying to pretend that it didn’t mean anything.

Clarke pulled her hand back, looking thoughtful, before sticking her thumb in her mouth and licking the crumb she’d just removed from Bellamy’s face. Bellamy’s stomach did several more flips in a row, and he tugged awkwardly at the end of his sweater in an attempt to fan himself because when in God’s name did it get so hot in this suddenly tiny, tiny bakery? He dreaded to think what kind of faces he was making.

“Anything take your fancy?” Delilah asked, bounding towards their table and saving Bellamy from himself.

“Uh-” Bellamy said, glancing at Clarke.

“We’ll take the chocolate.” Clarke said, barely looking at Delilah. Her eyes were still on Bellamy.

“Great!” Delilah said, “I’ll go get you an order form.”

Bellamy leant forward, murmuring, “Clarke, you’re not seriously _ordering_ a cake, are you?”

Clarke shifted in her seat. “I feel guilty. She’s such a nice lady and I’ve been _using_ her.”

Bellamy shot her a look. “So these free samples are now going to end up costing you, what, three hundred dollars? Which is what you’re about to pay for a _chocolate cake,_ by the way. Don’t expect me to go halves.” Then, doing a double-take, he asked, “Why didn’t you order that red velvet?”

“Because you hated it. The chocolate was clearly your favourite,” Clarke said, shrugging. Then, grinning devilishly, she added, “and I can think of all sorts of things I want you do with that frosting.”

Oh yeah, there was _definitely_ a weird look on his face now.

* * *

Bellamy was quiet on the walk back to her apartment, trying to figure out what on earth she had meant by the frosting comment. He didn’t think it could mean anything _other_ than the mental pictures it had conjured in his mind, but he also didn’t want to put his foot in it with his best friend by asking her to clarify whether or not she wanted him to lick it off her naked body.

As they reached her door, she turned to face him to say goodbye.

“So the cake is being delivered here next week.”

Bellamy chuckled. “She looked outraged that we’d left it so late.”

“What can I say?” Clarke said, taking a step towards him. “I’m slow to get things done. Even when they’re right in front of me.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

There was hardly any space between them now, he could feel her breath against his face as she looked up at him, could smell the fruity shampoo she’d used that morning.

“I was hoping you’d come over and help me eat it?”

And then there was no space between them at all, she was on her tip-toes and her tongue was in his mouth, her fingers roaming through his hair, and _his_ hand was cupping her ass, pulling her up towards him whilst the other was clutching the back of her neck like it had no intention of ever letting go.

Eventually, breathless, they pulled away. “I guess I could free up an afternoon or two for you, princess.”

“Actually, I was thinking of maybe a whole weekend.”

“Maybe a month?”

“We’ll definitely need at least a year, I reckon.”

They were both grinning, stupid happy grins that were more sugary than all those wretched cakes he’d consumed today.

He trailed a finger down her arm. “Are you going to invite me in, or what?”

Clarke smirked, her eyes flickering down to his lips. And it wasn’t the first time she’d done it, he suddenly realised, she’d been checking him out from the day they met and they’d both been too slow to pick up on it.

She turned to put her key in the lock, sighing softly as he came to stand behind her, his hand wrapping around her waist as he leant down to whisper in her ear, “by the way, the Bali thing? Duly noted.”


End file.
